Unfinished dreams. They suck!

This simply has to be told appropriately, so here goes:

It is a shiny warm day while I walk along the boulevard that flanks the Mediterranean sea. Tourists and locals mill quietly over the newly paved walk, parents playing with their kids, buying ice creams and souvenirs from the multitude of stand lining the street, while a cheerful buzz surrounds me on all sides.

An average day for the Costa del Sol, really, and yet there is a strange vibration in the air. A pounding sound, distant but constant as the seagulls screech overhead, heading land inward in search of food, no doubt. There appears to be a crackle of energy all around, and yet I cannot pinpoint its cause while I look at the colorful displays in front of the many stores that run along the length of the boulevard.

I am examining a particularly nice sarong when I glance around warily, bugged by the sound that seems to be increasing with every passing minute. What is it? It buzzes, and yet it is like some sort of sloshing sound, rhythmically pounding as my eyes are slowly drawn toward the water’s edge.

Frowning, I turn. Is it my imagination or is the water vibrating in beat with the sound, I wonder, glancing up when another pesky seagull screeches, and draws my full attention as it heads away from the beach and into town.

That can’t be right, I think. Glancing back the way I came when to my horror I see the shoreline begin to recede. This can’t be happening, I think somewhat nervously, thinking back of the stories about tsunamis and the likes on the news. But there it is, where the water first lapped, it is steadily drawing away, revealing the rocky sea bottom for all to see.
Amazed, I stare at it for a solid ten seconds before I drop the sarong and back away.

Rather than waste time like my fellow pedestrians I try to remember where I parked the car, and for the life of me can’t. Mild panic begins to form in my mind by then, as I wonder how the heck I’m going to get away from there before disaster strikes…as I have no doubt it will.

While around me people are starting to take notice as well, actually heading towards the shore, I start backing up, heading into town, and higher ground when a distant rumble takes over from the throbbing sound, filling my ears when I get about two blocks away from the boulevard and chance a glance back over my shoulder.

There, at the distant horizon, where usually Africa is visible a dark line has appeared, announcing what I am sure is a real-live tsunami heading straight towards the busy shore.

From the corner of my eye, I see Bommel, my bobtail, and, wondering what the heck he’s doing here in town with me, I run over and wrap my blouse around his neck as a leash when mom comes tearing around the corner in a silver truck.
Since the cab is filled with two of the sibs and several more dogs, I toss Bommel into the truck bed and jump in after him just a second before mom pushes the pedal down and hurls us down the street that is slowly starting to fill with other cars.

By this time I’m starting to suspect that this is not reality, but a dream once again, as along the way we come across two more of our dogs that soon join me in the back of the truck. Though, in some distant part of my brain I am aware that this is a dream, tension is thick when the traffic jams in the center of town.

The roar of the sea is deafening by now, and while calling the remarkably obedient dogs to follow us, we get out of the car and start running towards the higher ground, about two miles from where we are at this particular time.

We’re not going to make it, we all realize when screams and chaos ensuing sounds from the way we came. Up ahead little brother shouts over the noise that the train is coming, and that if we hurry we can jump right on, making me roll my eyes somewhat comically.

Now, if I didn’t suspect it all to be a dream already, that would have tipped me of right there, considering that there are no freight trains going through town. But, in the dream we miraculously manage to jump on, humans and dogs alike, looking back in silent awe as we see a gigantic wave sweep through the streets and right over our truck, stuck between the other cars that have been left by fleeing passengers and drivers, right there on the roundabout.

Holding tight to the steel bracing on the train wagon, I suck in my breath as the wave obviously possesses more speed than my current mode of transportation, nears; shouting at my companions to climb up on the roof, when it becomes clear that we’re not going to clear the wave in time.

I’ve just about managed to throw the last dog on top, when the wave hits the train, sending it hurling off the tracks and into the unpopulated area, which it had been crossing. A massive water-body crashed into the wagon, soaking me from top to bottom as the train screeches and thuds into a sideways slide that protects us against that first wave rolling through the town. I am somewhat amazed, if not incredulous that I’ve managed to keep my hold at all, during the mad tumble.

Urging everyone to get moving and start climbing the steep hill against which the train has slid to a halt, I cast a quick glance back at where the second wave is already rolling over the beach and heading towards where we’re scrabbling up the rocky and muddy hill in hopes of getting to safety.

The dogs are madly rushing up ahead of me, making me shout an unheard warning at mom and the sibs right before the roar of water thundering straight at us… is cut off by the sound of my alarm.
Aaargh! It is so frustrating to be awakened from adventurous dreams. How am I supposed to write a book about such incoherent fragments without a proper ending, I wonder.

But anyway…The day is a clear one when I wake and let the dogs out to storm into the bright sunlight that is warm, as long as I stay out of the chilly wind still blowing in from the north. Feeling stiff and sore from the night that counted eight hours for a change, I do some stretches while at the same time our tenant arrives with her caretaker, sending my dogs to the fences in a flurry of motion and noise.

Rather than dawdle now that I’m still mind-numb with sleep, I head down to the house ASAP, setting myself to the task of the humongous load of laundry that’s waiting to be hung.
With big brother moving back and forth between the house and where I’m busy, we discuss the day’s plans, deciding on just doing messages and the likes on the computers, rather than writing because there’s quite a bit to do today.

By the time the younger sibs join us, I’m up to my eyeballs in cleaning spider webs…the dratted things are back within just a week or so…dust and grease as I clean windows, shelves and lamps that have lost all color due to the thick layer of Sahara sand that always blows into the house during windstorms.

Little sister, always the conscientious one, soon joins me, making us feel somewhat accomplished by the time we decide to quit for the day. The kitchen windows shine, as does the hallway mirror. Corners are empty of spider webs and lamps burn brightly now that clouds are gathering outside to hide the sun. By this time dusk settles and I need to get ready to go out and pay the remainder of the veterinary bill in the village.

Yesterday a phone call from the vet confirmed my suspicion that the bill we’d already paid for Clue was only a partial one, so now we have to drive over to pay the rest.
On the overall, the bill is frightfully high, but still below what I’d expected after everything that was done to save Clue.

The bill paid, and a quick update given to the worried vet + attendant, we decide to go to town as well, in hopes that the new sink has arrived at last at the home improvement store. It hasn’t, we soon find out, so we leave only with a new slide for the drawers before heading back home.

Today’s dinner consists out of leftover carrot soup, which for some reason tastes even better, but doesn’t fall well on my stomach; once again demonstrating against any form of food, and making me feel nauseous. However, with some effort I manage to keep it down, partially due to the fact that I dozed off after eating, sleeping through some boring TV show for about twenty minutes when little brother wakes me up with some question that I answer, but don’t really hear.

Chagrinned at the involuntary nap, I get up from the chair and decide to make coffee to keep myself awake, and settle behind the computer for the agreed upon writing session of the latest project. I’m pleasantly surprised when a few hours later I surface from the new vampire flick with three whole pages to add to the whole, and shut down the computer to see what other preparations we can make for the kitchen-remodeling project.

With my stomach disagreeing with the coffee, too, I suck it up and focus on the task at hand. Measurements are made, some rough sketches added to those already there, before I start sawing the foundation that we’re going to paint and put together in the morning–if all goes according to plan.

By the time we finish, I am rather happy that the day has come to an end, and gather my things and dogs to head on out to the courtyard.
I take one step out when I realize it’s pouring buckets, making me scowl as I discard my vest and sweater, lest they be drenched by the downpour, and knot them around my bag before I hurry the dogs up the mountain and towards the cabin.

The rain is like ice on my skin, penetrating through the long-sleeved T I’m still wearing, within seconds, before I slip inside and shake the excess water off.
With the dogs hurrying on into the rooms–none of them eager to linger out in the rain–I clean today’s mop bucket, just in case an “accident” happens during the night ahead, and then feed my pack.
Luckily it takes me only fifteen minutes to get the stereo going, filling the cabin with music as I settle with a book for a little while and then get crackin’ with the computer once more.

Remodeling and memories.

Well, I was late getting to bed again, well past six in the morning and more than a little miffed at myself for dawdling that long. I’d hurried through everything so much, and there I was, still not in bed until the hour of six arrived.

The skies cleared throughout the night, leaving the air above wide open for sun to shine when morning arrived. Pretty as ever, stars bright white dots in the vast blackness of space, but still, it was cold as heck.
The dogs shared my opinion of the night for sure, seeing as they all literally lay plastered against, and over, me throughout the night, which left me toasty warm when I woke up somewhere around ten with my arm swollen and tingly from where Chaos had lain splayed over it.

Sleepy limbs. Yuck. Nothing feels worse when you’re sleep drugged and barely capable of forming a single comprehensive thought, while you’re trying to get some life back into the appendage.
No matter though, I drifted right back to sleep until half an hour before waking time the phone rang. There was a dream where I got a rather wonderful letter from some smart publisher who wanted my book…even though I hadn’t even send anything. Hah. But regretfully that was just a dream, and I noticed it while trying to read the letters that I couldn’t make out.
It’s always something I test in dreams, actually. If I can’t read what is written down comprehensively, then I know it’s a dream. Still, in the dream I was thrilled.

The phone call turns out to be nothing of interest–wrong number–making me growl and flop onto my stomach in hopes that the dogs, by some miracle, haven’t noticed. They have, of course, so I get up and start on the morning rituals just five and a half measly hours after bedtime.

I’m not feeling too bad, rolling kinks from my joints and smile into the bright sunlight that shines through my front door for a full minute. Still cold, but at least the sun gives the illusion of warmth as I gather my things and head down to the house.

Exercise day has arrived, and with a mixture of pleasure and dislike I get-to-it the moment I arrive at the house, where big brother’s just finishing up his own session.
What with the chilly temperatures, but the heaters blasting full force, it takes about fifteen minutes to warm up and discard the long sleeved T I put on at the start, for a serious workout.

Perspiration breaks out about half an hour after commencing the day’s routine, which surprises me somewhat, all things considered, but proves that the movements are still having an effect. The punches are getting harder, all muscles working together. Kicks higher and more powerful and jumping is becoming much less of an effort. They hardly make me loose my breath now. The only exercise that still does are the five jab sequence, which really take it out of a person, but even those don’t make me double over now. Progress, I love it!

What with the chill, I take a long HOT shower after an hour’s exercise, my shoulder blades protesting a little after ferociously attacking the bag–pounded out a lot of the past few days’ frustrations, I think–and continuing to do so even after I re-dress and head back to the living area.

Though I didn’t plan to, today, I do write half a page or so, going over the past two days’ progress with big brother as we do some more fine tuning on the general story line of the Bayou vampire story. It’s nicely taking shape now, the plot line’s becoming more solid, reasons and explanations for events getting set “for the record” and details being finalized.

Rather than spend the majority of the day at the computers there are quite a few chores waiting for us, so about an hour before sunset we head on up to the bungalow to make the final arrangements for our tenant, who’ll be returning from the revalidation home tomorrow.

Furniture gets moved around, making everything easily accessible for the wheelchair. Floors and walls swept after a month of disuse. And the bed is freshly made, making everything ready and comfortable for her return tomorrow.

Since we’re up there already we decide to hang up grandpa’s new door, too, ending up being pretty satisfied with the end result that fits an old solid door exactly into the doorway where a ragged one had first hung.
While big brother does a final check of the moped, just to see if it’ll run after at least two weeks of disuse, I head to the house where little sister’s dinner is waiting.

Though my stomach is much better today, I prudently only take a small portion and am happy to find out that I have no trouble keeping the food down today as I settle in a chair to watch a House rerun. Mortified to find myself dozing off near the end, I jump up and start gathering the things we’ll need to hang the last triplet of drawers for the new kitchen.

One of the slides for them, we find, has somehow ended up out of its packet and is lying in a dusty corner. It appears to be all right, but when we start fitting it into the casing, it becomes apparent that something has been damaged, allowing us to hang only two of the drawers now that we’ll have to go to town to get a new slide.

No matter, though: The other two roll in and out smoothly, and the slight inconsistency–the second during this project–of the case being just a few mm too big for the drawers, is rapidly corrected by thin strips of wood wedged along the sides of the slides.

I am pretty pleased to notice that through the hours of the gymnastics necessary for this particular endeavor, I have re-developed an appetite, so, while poring over measurements and tools, big brother and I devour a pizza together, which doesn’t even make my stomach twitch once, while we hang the last drawer and bring everything we used back to the courtyard storage.
By then the eve has drawn to the end, and while we watch an episode of “Frasier” to call in the final hour of the day I find myself thinking back of one of our travels through France.

It is a rather funny memory, really, even though at the time it was somewhat stressful.
It was in France, this particular memory. We had departed from home the day before, and crossed three country borders when we reached the capital city around noon.
We’d just had a short night by the side of the road, after many of hours of driving, so we were all a bit tensed.
Seven people and four dogs were piled into an old converted Mercedes ambulance–turned RV–as we drove into Paris. There were no new sights to see during this particular journey. We’d seen it all before, so the major city was just one of many through which we had to pass in order to get to our destination in Southern Spain. An uncle was behind the wheel, the way he usually did whenever we traveled.

It was a busy day on the roads of Paris–the way they always seemed to be in this particular city–and somehow, while passing the Eiffel tower at a slight distance we ended up on a road without any turn offs. Now this on itself wouldn’t have been much of a problem, had it not been for the fact that we were going in the wrong direction with no sign of being able to turn of anywhere in the near future.

Now one has to know my uncle to understand our dilemma. You see, uncle was a marvelous driver for long distances, somehow when he got behind a wheel he could drive on for days without any trouble whatsoever…as long as there were no surprises on the roads he had to navigate. Now, seeing as he had taken a wrong turn due to a construction sight, and had ended up on a road he was unfamiliar with, we were pretty much stuck on it, for no other reason than the fact that when in doubt, uncle had a tendency to just press the pedal down and keep on driving, no matter what.

So, there we were, wanting to go west, while the road was heading straight north instead, and no matter what was said or done, uncle kept going that way. We pointed out narrow streets in which he could turn off, suggested that he’d make a U turn when the traffic allowed, or just stopped so that we could examine the maps, or ask for directions. Nope. He kept on driving for miles, us kids and teens giggling on the front bench and in the back, joking about how we were going to end up right where we started, right until mom came to the front of the RV and actually had to grab his shoulder for a quick shake, “ordering” him to stop the car right that instant.

At long last he did, looking a little harried as mom and he exchanged places, so she could just make a U turn and head on back the way we came and retrace our trip to the point where we’d turned off the wrong way, calm as you please.

I don’t know why this memory surfaced today, but it was funny thinking back of this event that was one of many much the same: So many travels, each of them having their own funny, scary, exciting, and horrific moments.
In that respect memories are great. What at some point was annoying, or thrilling, now is just a recollection, much like a movie would be. Something to laugh about, or reminisce over, without tensions taking a major role in them.

With this particular memory the evening is officially over and I head to my cabin with the dogs in tow, hurrying their way back inside now that the temperatures have miraculously dropped below ten degrees Celsius. This never happens around this time of year. In the past decade or so that we’ve lived here, such temperatures only arrive nearing the end of January or even February. Global warming at work, I’m thinking.

As is usually the case during winter, my fingers are stiff with cold pretty much all day long, so the first thing I do upon arriving in my quarters is plug in the heater and blissfully stand in front of it, soaking the heat radiating into the bedroom.
It takes me more than half an hour to get my stereo started, but by the time I do, I can settle down with my latest read and slouch back to allow my body to wind down. Once I feel relaxed enough, I boot up my computer and start on the day’s blog.

All things considered it was good day–or at least better then I had expected when I first woke up this morning.

Dog fight, and a weird faint spell.

A most annoying thing happened last night. And just when I was drifting off to sleep, too. It was annoying, especially since I was having a rather fanciful dream of…well that’s not suited for sharing, actually, let’s just say that I was feeling pleasantly hot just about the time I felt a heavy weight settling on my face and shoulders.
I panic a little at the hardness and force of it, flaying out my arms to protect myself against the weight, coming up against a bony butt and flanks that are continuing to apply pressure to the majority of my upper body and head.

Knight! The big lug. Apparently he found the night’s chill to be somewhat “chilling” and was doing his very best to settle on top of me, rather than beside me in order to keep warm. Barely awake, I cursed at him, colorfully, smacking at his hard flanks and in the end heaving myself up–yes, I pulled another back muscle during that particular stunt–and twist until I got him from my chest enough to be able to breathe. No easy task, I assure you. I am forced keep smacking at him until he’s off the bed entirely, lest he’d show his stubbornness entirely by continuing the action as if nothing was amiss.

He has no respect for personal space, to say the least, and just peered at me indignantly from the side of the bed when I fell back in the pillow breathing heavily. By then he, of course, hopped right back onto the bed, this time settling against me, rather than on top, thank God. I didn’t really mind, since I too had felt the chill by then and drift right back to sleep, conking out for most of the night while ensconced by wonderful body heat and blankets aplenty.

I wake to a still frightfully chilly morning. It isn’t funny, especially not when I wake up half an hour before the alarm actually goes of, thinking, “Oh the dogs are still quiet and it’s still pretty dark. I can catch a few more Zzzz.” No such luck, however. Nope, with the first twitch of my head turning towards the clock, Trin Trin bounces right off the bed and starts making her usual ruckus.

There was dream, which was short but pretty vivid. It was a sunny morning in the dream and that confused me for a bit when I woke. In dreamland I was awakened by the sound of my phone ringing, and someone from the house informing me that there was someone at the gate.
I hate it when that happens; it makes me think that I missed a day, or something. It’s just too real. But, be that as it may, even though in the dream we had visitors who saw me with creepy Einstein hair–I didn’t have time to get dressed, or comb my hair before they arrived, at least it was warm there.

But anyways, in reality I get up with a deep sigh, not looking forward to the day ahead at all, what with rain pouring down in buckets, and rivulets of water cutting their way through the path, which I’ll have to follow to get to the house.

It’s layer weather, for sure. Pants covered by a skirt, thick socks in heavy boots, and three sweaters, two of which with turtlenecks, to make an outfit, finished of by a cap on my head. I look adorable…NOT! I don’t care though. I rather be warm than fashionable, any day, hah.

So, with my bag across my heavily padded shoulders, I chase the dogs down to the courtyard…almost landing flat on my back when I step onto the muddy concrete floor just inside, and promptly loose my footing. Grabbing hold of the post in the nick of time, I suck in a deep breath and shout for the dogs to get their butts out of the rain. They’re remarkably obedient for a change, even Trin Trin who storms right in.

I’m in a strange mood. My stomach’s still upset from yesterday, but I manage to choke down some bread while cutting a couple of pounds of carrots for a good winter soup that will brew on the stove for hours before it is ready for consumption.
A delicious smell fills the house within thirty minutes, making my stomach perk up just a little in anticipation.

The dogs are restless today too, for no apparent reason other than the cold, which always makes them cranky. So the heaters are lit, and blankets are dispersed throughout the house to allow the dogs some comfort on the tile floor.

About half an hour after arrival I settle at my computer for a few hours to go through the messages and then some writing. Not much gets done, my mind just won’t settle and only one page is written.
By the time the sibs arrive, big brother and I are forced away from our computers in order to jump right into the fray of a fight between Knight and little brother’s Bharam, who for some reason don’t like each other at all.

While I make a mad grab for my Dane, and little brother comes pounding down the stairs to reach his black cross breed, Fortuyn, big brother’s brown and white Pointer decides to join in by bravely nipping at Knight’s flanks. NOT SMART!

Total chaos ensues. Dogs come rushing towards the ruckus en masse, sending Knight into a wild frenzy of snapping and snarling at anything that comes near him. I just about wrap my hand around his collar when he sets his mouth into Fortuyn’s neck, shaking him like mad when I throw my weight backwards, smacking him a solid one on the head and yank him out of the sitting area, and away from the madly barking pack gathering.

Behind me I head big brother roar something about “it being broken” and try not to imagine Fortuyn’s skin being torn from his back, or some such, as I literally shove Knight into the pantry to cool down, and turn back to wearily look at the damage.

Fortuyn is hiding under a chair but is otherwise unharmed. Big brother, on the other hand is fretting over his pet-computer, swearing under his breath at the two Cocker Spaniels who’d decided to take a short cut across the table, dancing right on top of his computer screen and bending the frame enough not to allow the lid to be closed.
Though the damage is pretty ugly, the computer still functions, including the screen, so I exclaim a sigh of relief and join big brother at the table to see if we can do some damage control at least.

Around us the dogs are quiet once again, obviously sensing that the “pissed off” level among the humans is huge enough for them to take refuge into silence.
Rare fights among the pack always cause a certain burst of adrenaline, and today is no exception. We find that after this little fiasco neither of us can find the focus necessary for writing and carefully set our computers away to get some other work done instead.

The carrot soup has boiled enough to be finished with herbs, yogurt, cottage cheese and spices, before the blender purees it all together in a tasteful mix that’ll go a long way in sustaining us through dinner.

Next, while younger sister is cleaning the courtyard, I take out a batch of laundry to hang, even though it won’t be much use if the weather keeps up. Sis and I talk a bit while we’re both working in the chilling cold, Knight watching us somewhat warily, fully aware that he’s still in the proverbial dog house and for once not making a nuisance of himself during this particular chore.

Not at all hungry by then, I decide to postpone dinner for a bit as I start to lug in the newly built and painted drawers for the kitchen into the house, because big brother and I decided to fit them, now that writing isn’t working. After some fitting, we find that one dividing wall of one of the drawer cases has been placed wrong during construction, so after unscrewing the barrier and shifting if a couple of mm we begin the meticulous measuring and fitting.

After about an hour of slow progress, I decide to take a cup of soup with bread, and though it tastes well, my stomach revolts almost the moment I get it all down. Using a breathing technique I’ve acquired over the past few years, I do manage to keep it down as we continue on, hanging two drawers in total until it hits me right in the head. No, not the drawer…but a woozy feeling that sneaks up on me with a slight tremor in all my limbs.
Getting up from my knees, from where I’ve been carefully fastening one of the heavy gliders into the case, I can barely remain standing–let alone screw the last few screws in. Blinking against the black spots in my vision, I mutter something vague to big brother who takes the task from me, and watches with a worried frown as I am forced to sit down on the floor, fighting the symptoms I am then recognizing as the same ones I once had when I passed out.

Promptly I lower my head between my shaky knees, breathing in deeply until some of the weakness, and spots fade, and I feel well enough to squirt a liberal amount of honey into my mouth.
I let it seep on my tongue for a bit, my vision slowly clearing. I don’t know what the heck it is that just came over me, but it almost feels like a bug, or something.

But anyways, we manage to get all three drawers hung, allowing big and little brother to carry the entire contraption out again as I set to the task of treating the last two drawers with their final layer of paint. It gets done with reasonable speed, while a movie plays on the TV, keeping me pleasantly distracted.

After setting the paint materials away, along with the wet drawers, and cleaning my hands with turpentine and soap, the evening has progressed considerably, and we’re up for a break.
I’m still shaky by the time the sibs and I sit down to watch the recorded episode of Dexter, fully enjoying it even though it’s in German, and manage to choke down another cup of soup.
I pretty much slouch at the table most of the remaining evening, until at long last it’s time to withdraw to my quarters.

We had planned to do a bit more writing before the night was through, but we figure, what with our lagging levels of energy, we’ll call it an early night and head for our personal spaces for the last remaining hours of our days.

Upon arriving in my cabin–the rain stopped, but it’s still cold–I am shocked to find that some dog has managed to break in again, spreading another cushion’s contents all over the floor and requiring at least an hour of cleaning up from me, before finally I plunk down on the bed with a much deserved cigarette and a fifteen minute read to settle my turmoil mind. It doesn’t work.

Though the day started well enough, my mood is abysmal by the time I wind down, more than a little frustrated with the fritzing stereo that takes even longer than usual to get going. Damn thing. I’m going to toss it out one of these days and get a new one. This simply won’t do.

But, in the end I do manage to get it going again, and find my mind calming down at least a fraction as the calming music fills my head. An occasional house call with big brother in his room, earns us some new ideas for the latest writing project, which at the very least allows my mind to wander into different areas than just the “feeling miserable” thoughts that keep tumbling through my mind.
By the time I get online to chat on the forums I feel well enough to start on today’s blog.

I would like to say that today was a good day, but except for the fact that things got done…it really wasn’t.

Arctic winds.

I wake up from a vivid dream that is going to be an absolute perfect setting for the next vampire short story that’s a fact. It was in the Bayou, honeyed speech, dark nights, and creepy creatures all ‘round. Perfect! I’m determined to write it down the moment I get down to the house, so I hurry through the morning rituals because I know I won’t have time for much of anything before we need to get ready for the day’s schedule.

Heading to the house isn’t a pleasure today, though. It doesn’t matter that the sun is shining brightly when an icy wind blows mightily down the mountain. According to the weather reports it comes straight from the Arctic, literally chilling me to the bone as I lug my bag down and try to tone the dogs a bit so they won’t bowl right over me.

My hands are literally numb by the time I enter the house and stand in front of the heater big brother has already lit, in order to seep some heat into my bones.
The night wasn’t any better either. I’ve slept under three blankets, dogs piled around and on top of me, with only my nose exposed to the air and still I wasn’t warm enough to stand those fifty yards to the house without ending up feeling frozen.

There’s too little time for me to do the laundry today, but what with the chill working so “marvelously” on my limbs, I don’t particularly mind. My stomach’s upset too, so I only some cereal with yogurt in hopes that it’ll stay down well enough.
It does, just barely, so with a hot drink between my hands I switch on the computer and go over the day’s messages.

With big brother opposite of me, babbling about…I can’t really say what since by that time I am writing down my idea for the new vamp story, which is to be our next project. Getting the beginning just write is always a must for me, if I have the scene set, so to speak, the rest will come with little effort most of the time.
While I chuckle and grin in a silly fashion, I shush curious big brother on occasion, urging him to be patient as I write down the images I remember so clearly from the dream, for him to read, just as soon as the first scene’s finished.

He LIKES! Which is an author’s greatest pleasure for sure. It’s rough, it’s filled with little inconsistencies, but no matter, the first page is here and with it the rest of the story is bound to follow soon enough.
All around us the dogs are piled in front of the single heater that’s on, what with only one gas keg left to use. Like me they don’t appreciate the cold at all, and is noticeable when Ahmbah, one of our older, frailer and almost blind cockers comes up behind me seriously wanting to get on the seat behind me. He’ll squeeze himself between my back and the chair if I let him, just to be warm. Instead I pile my long woolen vest on the table and deposit him there, barely pausing in the frantic write.

I’m most annoyed by the time the sibs come down, announcing our departure now that everyone is up and the dogs have human company for when we’re gone for the afternoon.
Quickly I head to my cabin, this time leaving the dogs in the house, and change into something descent, before heading out to the car where five fully-grown adults squeeze into the truck cab and start on our way to the village.

The Vet’s is our first stop. Clue’s bill needs to be paid and with a bit of dread in our stomach’s we head inside to receive it. We’ve been warned about the bill going well into the hundreds of Euros. Somewhere around three or so the younger vet had mused on the day we got Clue to take him home, but much to our surprise a bill well below two hundred faces us. The regular vet had promised to give us a discount due to the fact that he had found the case so interesting, but this was a lot more discount than we’d anticipated. I wonder if a mistake was made, but until we hear something, I’m going to cheer our good fortune on that matter.

Next, a new supply of butane gas needs to be bought, and full ones soon replace four empty kegs in the truck-bed, before we head for town instead. Our first stop there is the telephone shop, where, upon arrival we realize that big brother has forgotten the necessary forms to get the new phone.
A quick call to the house sets that straight, though, as he gets the numbers we need…after the second try…and the real hassle starts.

For some reason the saleswoman is unable to get things working–I think she’s new–and it takes us a good hour before we finally leave with the new phone packed and bagged. We’re about to drive off, too, when suddenly the new phone rings. Somewhat taken aback by this–what with no one knowing the number–I answer the call; only to hear the saleswoman ask, very apologetically, if we could possibly return, because she forgot to activate the thing for outgoing calls. Go figure! It is only because she was nice about it, and somewhat embarrassed that we aren’t annoyed when we finally head further into town.

Tonight is our study night, and even though I’m not looking forward to it with my iffy nerves jumping around in my stomach, it goes well enough. It’s a quiet evening in the computer room, only three other students, quietly working at their computer while we dig in for an hour of tests.
I’m pretty pleased when by the end of the hour we’ve covered six of the tests, two flawlessly and the others with an average of two errors. Passed…at least we would have if these questions were to come up in the exams looming somewhere in the near future. Hah.

That done, we can go back home, much to our relief: In town the temperatures were low too, but still when we get out of the car icy winds tug at us, once more, making me hurry through getting out of my neat close and into the casual ones, before I hurry to the house and the ecstatic dogs.

As is their habit, I am physically assaulted by my personal pack of nine, what with Knight II locked in the pantry with Trin Trin, as I take a few minutes to dodge Mosha’s happy teeth–she likes to grab my wrists in her enthusiasm–Sitabah and the Labs jumping all around me, and Chaos throwing his considerable weight against me. He perches up on his hind legs and stabs his snout into my stomach while I try to keep my balance under the eighty pounds of his huge body.

When they finally calm down, and I’m working on putting some extra veggie toppings on a Margarita pizza from the freezer, Knight II and Trin Trin are released. Another bout of evading the enthusiasts ensues, but it’s doable, what with there being only two of them now.

Thirty minutes later, with the pizza divided between mom, and me, I settle into a seat and have my dinner while keeping an eager Knight at bay with my foot. I’ve got to say one thing for the Dane; he is nothing if not persistent. No matter how often I push him back from slobbering all over my dinner, he’ll keep trying time and again until at last nothing is left for him to take.

I know the meal’s not going to stay put once I’m done–my stomach’s rolling even more by now–but I valiantly try, sitting very quietly throughout another rented DVD. Edward Norton as the Hulk this time.

We’re disappointed by it, really, finding it a poor substitute for the Ang Lee version a few years back, even though that one wasn’t brilliant by any means. Norton played it well enough, but the special effects were a little…I don’t know, less pretty I guess. The previous Hulk moved with a certain grace, while this one appears unrealistic, and ugly, no matter how silly that sounds.

William Hurt’s General Ross isn’t as grand as Sam Elliot–who played the grumpy military officer marvelously–nor did Liv Tyler do justice to the role of Betty. She’s a great actress, but there was definitely something lacking here. A pity really.
But who knows, perhaps yesterday’s screamy/headbangy/ichy feeling is still lingering a bit, not allowing for much pleasure when watching TV. Lord knows nothing seems to be able to hold my attention for long these days.

The stomach’s still upset by the time credits roll over the screen and by then it becomes painfully clear that it’s all for naught. I hurry for the bathroom to hug the porcelain bowl for a bit.

Being pretty used to the entire procedure, I feel empty in the stomach afterwards, but not necessarily worse when I settle behind my computer with a cup of tea and a glass of water, to resume this morning’s writing.

Not much of the actual story gets written, what with big brother, and me brainstorming about locations, settings and names that will be necessary for the story. Louisiana we’re thinking. The vampire born and raised in that area while the heroine comes from the north, NY probably. Dates are discussed, and details jotted down until at last midnight passes and the day has come to an end.

Plans that had been made for today, were only partially covered, but I suppose that tomorrow’s another day for such things as cleaning the parrot cage, hanging some more kitchen drawers and of course the laundry. Heck, I might even be able to squeeze in an exercise session. Hah.

By the time I get to my room, feed the dogs that are always quite hungry in the winter months, and settle down with a packet of salty crackers, I’m yawning constantly…as expected bedtime last night was late again, bringing me close to dawn by the time I finally crawled under a pile of blankets and dogs.

I’ll be doing the same tonight that’s a fact. I can barely feel my fingers and toes, something for which warm canine bodies are excellent heaters. This is definitely an advantage when being in the company of so many dogs. They’ll crawl forever closer when the temperatures drop, and today I can hardly wait for that to happen!